A Day in a Year of the Life of a Skeleton
by Nic an Ri
Summary: Short snippets taken from one day in one year of the life of Skulduggery Pleasant. Starting in 1714 and continuing on until present day. Will contain some of my O/C's. Rated K for the violence to come.
1. A Child is Born

**Hello,**

** I was thinking the other day that Skulduggery has lived for a very long time. So I thought it would be nice to write a few short stories, one from every year he lived. This is going to take a very long time so bare with me. I think my maths is a bit off but I have decided to start in the year 1714. Please enjoy.**

**:)**

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**1714**

Lord Henry Backspan paced nervously around the large drawing room of his family manor. He stopped momentarily by the fireside to warm his shaking hands. He knew that his nerves were to blame for the tremor in his hands, not the cold. Sighing he resumed pacing in front of the mantel piece. Oil paintings and deer heads hung above him on the walls, watching his worried state. Wind whistled outside the windows making the doors shake. A short scream of pain was heard from the room next door and Backspan's face paled. "Aoibhin! Aoibhin dear are you alright?" Henry called to his wife. A roar and a grunt came through the door by way of reply. Henry advanced to the door but he knew he was forbidden to enter. "What's happening? What's wrong?" he asked but all was silent. There was a crash and the noise of scurrying feet. Henry had come so close to the door to listen that he was knocked down when a large woman barged through the door into the drawing room. The woman had grey hair pinned back tightly beneath her black headscarf. The woman's wrinkled face stared down at Henry with utter disgust.

"Lord Backspan," She said her beady, bird-like, black eyes swept over the man's crumpled figure on the ground. "Your wife is going through one of the toughest labours I have ever witnessed, in all my life –and not only have I lived a very long time, I have also seen a woman deliver a child that had two heads and six arms- and you, Lord Backspan, seem to think that now is a good time for a nice lie down on the floor." Henry scrambled to his feet, his face even whiter than before. "Is she okay?" He asked running a hand through his messy dark brown hair. His blue eyes were full of fear as the midwife continued.

"Your child does not wish to come out Lord Backspan, in fact he is determined not to exit the poor woman and has latched onto her womb in hope that he may grow old inside her. The doctor must open your wife and retrieve the boy by ways of surgery." The midwife said in a harsh voice. Henry Backspan face was suddenly alive with joy his eyes sparkled and his lips stretched into a wide smile. "It's a he? It's a boy" Henry asked in a whisper. A burst of happiness washed over the man but it was quickly squashed by the old woman. "Lord Backspan! You obviously fail to see the seriousness of the situation. This child may very well _kill_ your wife," The midwife said the last sentence very slowly as if she was speaking to a two year old child.

The room went very quiet and Henry was sure that the temperature had dropped as he felt a sudden coldness at the pit of his stomach. All he could hear was the fire crackling and the wind howling. He didn't realise the midwife disappearing back into the birthing chamber. Lord Backspan's heart drummed in his chest. There was another clatter from the chamber and a small cry of pain. Henry's throat tightened. Then Lord Backspan heard what he thought was the most wonderful sound, the sound of a baby crying.

He quickly ran into the room ignoring the protests from the old midwife. The baby was small, with pink skin and a wrinkled face. He cried and cried until the nurse wrapped him in a blanket and passed him over to his mother. Lady Aoibhin Chara took her child in her arms and held him close. The baby stopped crying and snuggled up to his mother. Her light brown hair was plastered to her scalp and her high cheek bones flushed with pink. She whispered softly into her new born baby's ear. Aoibhin kissed her baby on the top of his head "My beautiful baby boy" She whispered softly into his ear. Her deep jade green eyes flickered upwards and she caught sight of her husband standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Henry slowly walked over to his wife's side. He stroked her head and kissed her softly. "Do you think we should name him?" He asked looking down on his new son, love filling his heart. "Yes, I think we ought to give him a name. He should take your family name" Aoibhin said drawing her green eyes away from her son to look at her husband. He nodded in approval. "And we should name him after your Grandfather" He said to his wife.

"James O'Donoghue it is then" Aoibhin said with a smile.

"I don't really see the point," Henry mumbled, confused. "He's going to change it when he is older anyways"

"Well we can't just go around calling him child number two, now can we?" Aoibhin said her soft voice slowly drifting away. Her eyelids flickered and closed. Henry's heart lurched. The baby gurgled and snuggled closer to his mother. "Lord Backspan, Sir," A young nurse said "They both need to rest; it has been a very traumatic past few hours for them both."

Henry nodded and muttered his thanks to her and the midwife. Then he returned to the fire in the drawing room.

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**Thanks for reading, if anybody has any suggestions or ideas please let me know. Reviews are as always welcome **

**:D**


	2. First Steps

**1715**

Lady Aoibhin Chara sat in a chair overlooking the vast Wicklow country side. The manor she shared with her husband and two sons loomed over her casting a long shadow in the summer sun. She sat in the shade for she was far too hot to do anything. A servant girl came out and gave her a cold glass of water. As she drank Aoibhin watched her husband playing with their eldest son Tomas. They were play fighting with wooden swords. Henry bent down and scooped his son up and threw him over his shoulder. The small boy wriggled in his father's arms, laughing and squealing in joy.

The baby sitting at Aoibhin's feet gurgled and laughed at his brother. The baby was big for a one year old. With sparkling green eyes and a mop of messy brown hair, he was by far the prettiest baby in all of Ireland, well, in Aoibhin's eyes anyways. She smiled down on her youngest son and chuckled at the enjoyment he was getting out of watching his father and brother. "Don't worry James, soon you'll be old enough to play with them" She said. The baby turned to look at her with a frown as if to say _I could join them now if I wanted to._

There was a yelp of surprise and Aoibhin looked up to see Tomas in a heap the ground. Henry looked down at him in utter surprise. "I dropped him," he said still looking down on his son. "Do you think he is hurt?" Henry asked his wife. "Henry!" Aoibhin shouted at him, rising from her chair with worry. "Oh, right" he said bending down to check Tomas. "He is okay dear!" Henry called back, looking up from his son with a smile. Seeing an opportunity Tomas jumped up and wrapped his skinny arms around his father's neck, dragged him to the ground and jumped on his back. Aoibhin sat back down and relief washed over her. Her husband was confused and clumsy at the best of times, it was a miracle he hadn't seriously injured one of their children already.

A flicker of movement at Lady Chara's feet caught her attention. She stared down in horror as her thirteen month old son leaned forward on his hands, then pushed off the ground so that he was standing in a perfect upright position. He wobbled a little bit and took his first step, unaided. He wobbled again but didn't slow down. The small boy began to hobble towards his father. He quickened his pace and his hobble turned into a scurry, then a skip until finally James O'Donoghue was running across the garden as fast as his chubby baby legs would carry him. Aoibhin screamed. She knew her baby would soon start to walk, but she never expected him to just stand up and _run._ She thought that there would be a lot of holding hands and furniture, and a few tumbles and bumps, but not this. "It is the work of the devil" The servant girl said from beside Aoibhin. She blessed herself and began to slowly back up against the manor wall as if any sudden movement might catch the baby's attention and he would turn and run at her.

Henry watched his son running at him; he stopped and rubbed his eyes and looked again. Sure enough his one year old son was _running _like a fully grown man_. _"This can't be happening," he muttered. The baby ran as if he had been doing so his whole life. Henry screamed and ran. The monstrous, devil baby followed behind him giggling away. "Help! Help!" Henry screamed. Delusional with shock he began to imagine the baby with horns sticking out of his head and fire in his hands pouncing and tearing at his flesh with baby hands. Henry yelped and climbed the pear tree. James kept going and ran full pelt into the tree trunk. He fell back on his bum with a soft _thump_.

The baby's lip quivered and he burst into tears. Wailing and holding his head. His older brother ran over and picked him up. Thomas was six and found the whole spectacle amusing. "That was so cool!" He said to his crying sibling. "How did you do that?" Aoibhin ran over red faced and took the baby from Tomas. "Mam! Mam did you see that?" Tomas asked her. "Mam do you think he was using magic? Can babies do magic, Mam? I hope he doesn't waste his magic on running. That would get boring. I suppose he would be fast. Maybe we could time him see how fast he gets. Can we Mam? Can we? Mam put him down I want to see it again. This time I will see how long it takes him to run home,"

Aoibhin wasn't listening to Tomas' plans to test his little brother's speed. The baby was holding her gaze with his jade green eyes. He had a cheeky grin as if to say _I told you I could._


	3. Family Crests

**1716**

Henry sat in the drawing room with his two sons, Tomas and James. Tomas was seven years old and James was two. They sat close together all looking up at two large crests that hung above the fireplace.

"That boys, is the O'Donoghue family crest." Henry started, pointing to the crest on the left. "It belongs to my side of the family, handed down from generation to generation." The crest was green and white with two grey wolves and a black eagle embedded in the shield. A knight's helmet sat on top in a cluster of green leaves that twisted to show their yellow under bellies.

"The eagle is known as 'The demon of the sky' it represents power, strength and noble nature." Henry continued."Your mother wants me to tell you that noble nature is most important . . ." Tomas looked away from the crest to look at his father.

"Is it?" Tomas asked. Henry looked confused, he furrowed his eyebrows and ran a hand though his hair. He looked over his shoulder and found his wife Aoibhinn glaring at him.

Henry gulped, "Y-Yes, yes it is. Tomas, noble nature is most important," Tomas nodded even though he had the feeling his father didn't really believe what he was saying.

Aoibhinn came over to join them. She took James off her husband and sat the baby on her lap. Henry coughed once to clear his throat before he spoke again. "And the wolves, well they are there too but I forget what they mean. I suppose there are two of them, so that's got to mean something good," He smiled at his crest, remembering when his father had sat him down and given this talk. Not quiet remembering the actual words.

"That," Aoibhinn said pointing to the other crest "Is my family crest, the O'Connell family. Do you see the stag in the middle?" She asked her sons. Tomas nodded and James tugged on a bit of her long hair. The stag stood proudly in the middle if the shield. Two green shamrocks and one white shamrock surrounded it. "The stag represents the very ancestors of the Celtic race. Our crest is steeped in history and magic." Now Aoibhinn smiled up at her crest.

"How come I'm not an O'Connell?" Tomas asked.

Aoibhinn smiled at him and explained while she untangled her hair from her toddler's fingers. "It is traditional for the boys to be given their fathers name when they're born. So if we had a baby girl she would be given my family name because I am her mother."

"Oh okay, I get it. So what happens when I change my name?" He asked.

"You carry on the O'Donaghue crest and give it to your sons, even though your name has changed your family hasn't." His mother explained.

"Dad, does everyone have three names?" Tomas asked turning to his father.

"Yes everyone has their true name, their given name and their chosen name."

Tomas nodded yet again looking thoughtful. His light brown hair was neatly combed and his blue eyes shone from his freckled face. "I think I am ready to choose my name," he said. Both his parents nodded in approval. Tomas' little brother giggled and fixed him with a smile. "Michael Collins," the seven year old said confidently. "Yeah, Michael Collins is my name"

Aoibhinn kissed him on the head and James clapped his hands. "Michael Collins, what a fine name" Henry said ruffling his son's hair.

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**Hello**

**This chapter is very short and very boring. Sorry about that I just wanted to explain how I think the 'Family Crest' system works. Oh and just to make it clear, Skulduggery is the youngest son here, with the given name of James.**

**Thanks for reading fell free to review.**

**:D **


	4. Devil Child

**Eh . . . Hi,**

**Please don't hate me. I know it has been FOR EVER since I last uploaded but I have been suffering with the most god awful case of writers block for WEEKS. I was demented with it. I found what ever I did write had turned to gothic, romantic, deep crap that really isn't me at all. If you could see some of my drafts you'd think Caelan had written it I swear! **

**So I am terribly sorry for the long wait. I feal horrible after you've all been so nice! Thanks for all the reviews and story follows, you really made my day and broke the damned writers block curse with your kind words and encouragement.**

**I.O.U**

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**1717**

A wintery wind blew harshly outside the walls of the Wicklow manor. Aoibhinn Chara sat close to the fire patching a hole in her husband's sock. The newest addition to her family, a beautiful baby girl, gurgled and kicked in her cot, as she worked. Aoibhinn's three year old son James walked in, followed by the house cat.

"G-go aw-way," He said to the cat struggling to form his words. The cats auburn fur was illuminated by the fire. Her green eyes looked up at James as her tail twitched slowly from side to side. She took a few steps forward and began to rub herself up against James' legs. "N-no! Leave me a-lone." The little boy said to the cat. Aoibhinn sighed. Her youngest son James had problems with his speech. He had started to speak at an early stage and the stutter was very noticeable. Aoibhinn and her husband Henry weren't worried at the time. They thought that once their son had got the hang of speaking his stutter would fade. Now, however Aoibhinn was worried. The stutter had grown in prominence not faded. She knew that people in the village had started to talk about James.

The small boy ran his hand through his messy brown hair, a trait he had picked up from his father. He looked down at the cat and she purred. "F-fine," He said. James plonked down onto the rug and stroked the cat fondly. "M-Mam, Can we g-get a d-dog?" he asked his green eyes glistening with hope.

Aoibhin chucked and smiled. "No, I don't think the cat would be too pleased." James opened his mouth to argue but he was interrupted when the drawing room door opened. A large woman entered. She had grey hair pinned tightly into a bun. Two beady, black eyes peered out of her wrinkled face at James on the floor. James' green eyes narrowed and he scowled at her. Aoibhinn sent her son a warning look before she welcomed the midwife. "Agatha, thank you for coming,"

"Not at all Lady Chara, it's my pleasure," The midwife crossed the room and peered into the baby's cot. "How are we doing little one?" She asked.

"F-fine, thank you." James said smugly from the floor.

"Not you." The mid wife snapped angrily, turning back to the baby and scooping the six month old girl up into her large arms.

Behind her the young boy made a face, mimicking the midwife's scowl. Again Aoibhinn sent James a warning look, she knew her son didn't like the old woman but it was no excuse to be rude.

James stopped making faces and watched quietly from the floor as the midwife checked the baby. The girl, whose given name was Sorcha, allowed the old woman to poke and prod at her. The two women talked and gossiped for a bit about the on goings in the village, sharing stores of who did what. Finally, and much to James' relief the baby began to cry signalling the end of the midwife's visit.

Aoibhinn took the Sorcha from the old woman and the midwife made for the door. Again her bird-like eyes peered at James. She stopped at the door and looked back.

"Lady Chara, I have been hearing talk about your youngest son. What I've been hearing suggests that he is a child of Satin himself. I've heard rumours that he burned his brothers back with flames from his hands, and that he runs like a man, that he killed a bird with his bare hands and now I hear that the devil has manipulated his speech. Lady Chara, I half expect horns to grow from his head." Agatha sneered and closed the door behind her.

Aoibhinn was too shocked to speak. James leapt up and ran after the midwife. He got to the front door of the manor and ran down the steps. "THERE IS N-NOTHING W-WRONG WITH ME!" He shouted after her.

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That night at dinner James asked to be excused from the table early. He left quickly with the cat at his feet. Silence following his exit.

Eager to break the tension Aoibhinn spoke up. "How was the hunt?" She asked Henry.

"Good, Lady Boxtide was asking for you, she gave me the pheasant," He replied gesturing at the pheasant they were all eating.

"That was nice of her," again the table grew quiet.

"Not really," Henry admitted. "I couldn't catch anything, and she was worried that you and the children would starve so she gave me one of her spare pheasants."

Aoibhinn smiled at her husband honesty, but she said nothing.

Moments passed before Michael spoke up, "Why do they call him the devil child?" he asked. Aoibhinn straightened up; she had been expecting this for quite a while, however the question caught her off guard.

"You're brother is just very advanced for his age that's all. Other people don't see this as a blessing; they see it as a curse. It's nothing to be ashamed of," She answered back.

"So it's a good thing?"

"Of course it is son," It was Henry who answered this time.

"The other boys in the village won't let me play with them because I'm brothers with him" Michael said quietly looking down at his plate. Neither of his parents had a good enough answer to offer him. So they both pretended that nothing was said and continued their meal in silence.

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**Hey, so I know this is pretty bad and I'm sorry for the mistakes, but I hope you liked it!**

**:D**

**P.S Oh! Almost forgot. I need your help. I figured that this story is going to go on a bit before the other characters from the books will be introduced. I plan to bring in Ghastly first but that won't be until Skulduggery (currenty known as James) is like 50. So I have one of my own characters who, in my head is a life long friend of Skulduggery's, nothing more! But, again in my head, they meet at a young age. So basicly I'm asking will I add her in soon? Or completely forget about it? It would be easier for me to give him a friend because he won't have any with that devilish stutter. So I could write about the two of them and their adventures for a bit, or continue with crappy uneventful chapters like this one. PM me your ideas please! **

**HELP NEEDED!**


	5. Playing with Fire

**Hello :)**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews and replies to my question! Some of you mightn't like this chapter but just so you know it is neccessory for the story. Please don't be too mad when you've finished reading!**

**enjoy **

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**1718**

"Keep breathing in and out." Michael Collins' smooth voice coached his little brother. James sat cross legged on the grass with his eyes closed. In his right hand a small flame was flickering in the autumn wind.

"When you breathe in let the flames grow and when you breathe out try and make it as small as you can." Michael continued. James did as he was told. A moment or two passed before James spoke up.

"M-Michael" He said in a bored tone.

"Yes James," Michael replied as he absentmindedly picked at the crisp Autumn leaves that lay like a thick orange and amber carpet on top of the grass. James sighed and opened one eye to peer at his brother.

"I've been doing this for w-weeks, can I s-start doing s-some cool-er t-th-things?" James moaned to his older sibling. Michael chuckled and smiled at his little brother, God he was going to miss him.

"Fine then, I think you're ready to throw some fire balls."

James leapt up and punched the air in excitement. Michael stood up beside him and took up the appropriate stance. He began to explain the method needed to throw a good fireball.

"Yeah yeah, M-Michael, I g-get it," James said cutting him off.

"Oh really now, do you?"

"Yeah I'm t-the best flame t-th-throw-er in all of W-wicklow."

Michael smiled at his little brother's over-sized ego and his incapability of pronouncing the word 'Thrower'. Michael was really going to miss him when he left. If only he could re-live that day that changed his future. He knew his harsh actions would result in harsh consequences, but never in his life did he think he would be sent away to live in the countryside with a relative he hardly knew. The more he thought about what he had done the stronger the memory got. The vivid images of that unforgettable day clawed at Michael and dragged him into a flash back.

_Michael grabbed his hurly and ran out of his house. It was a warm day and he was looking forward to a game of hurling with his friends then a swim after. He skipped the whole way down to the village field, ignoring all the stares people sent his way. The jeers and the name calling were a bit harder to ignore so by the time Michael got to the field he was pretty pissed off._

_There were already some boys there hitting around the sheepskin slitor, chatting and joking around. Michael jogged over to meet them, but when he neared the group all the chatter stopped. The boys, one by one, turned to look at him. "We don't want you here Collins." Someone said from the back. A large boy stepped forward. He had a round face with a mess of brown hair, his name was Darragh Hellion._

_"You heard him," Hellion said in a low threatening voice. "Piss of home to your mammy and your Devil Child." This gained a few laughs from the group._

_Michael's lower lip began to tremble; he had had enough of this, the years of bullying that he had put up with. He was sick of people picking on him and his little brother. It was time to end it._

_ "No." Michael said quietly._

_"What's that? Huh? Little Michael wants his mammy, but he's too afraid to go home in case he's beat up by The Devil Child," Hellion said in a mocking tone. The other boys laughed again._

_"Don't call him that!" Michael screamed at the older boy._

_ "Devil Child, Devil Child, Michael's brother is freak baby, Devil Child, Devil Child!" Hellion chanted dancing around Michael._

_Before he knew it Michael jumped on Darragh Hellion's back. Kicking and scratching at him furiously. However Michael didn't have the upper hand for long. Two boys grabbed him from behind and pulled him off Hellion. They dragged him to the ground and began to kick him. Hellion turned around, furious, and laid into Michael. The three boys hit harder trying to break the protective ball Michael had curled himself into. Seeing no way out Michael kicked into survival mode, relying on the only thing he had left to rely on. _

_He clicked his fingers and grabbed hold of the nearest foot. He lit a flame and the boy's leg went on fire. The boy screamed and jumped back, giving Michael some more room. He clambered onto his hands and knees. Two of the boys had run off, one with their leg still on fire. Slowly Michael stood up to face his only remaining opponent. _

_"You are the devil! You are filthy, un-holy!" Hellion screamed. _

_It was all too much for Michael he snapped his palms out and Hellion flew through the air. "Shut up!" Michael yelled, but Hellion didn't stop yelling. Michael marched over to where Hellion lay on the ground. Once again he clicked his fingers and summoned a flame. This made Hellion scream louder about Michael's blasphemy. _

**_All Michael wanted was for the boy to stop screaming._**

_As Michael walked towards the screaming boy, he realised what he was about to do. Part of him wanted to stop and turn around. Another part of him told him to do it. Stop the screaming and name calling for ever._

**_All Michael wanted was for them to stop talking about his family._**

_Michael let the flames grow and bent over Hellion. The voice of his conscience screamed in his head, urging him to stop._

**_All Michael wanted was to protect his little brother._**

_Michael raised his hands and hesitated. He thought of his little brother, cooped up in the manor, not allowed to come and play in the village because of what the people would say to him. Michael knew that James just wanted to make friends with the other boys. _

**_All Michael wanted was to protect his little brother._**

_Then Michael thought about protecting his little brother, standing up to the bullies so that James wouldn't have to. He took a deep breath and brought his flaming hands down on Hellions chest. _

_Hellion screamed and screamed._

Screaming, someone was screaming when Michael awoke from his flashback. Snapping back to his senses Michael realised that James had set a tree on fire.

"Help m-me M-Michael!" James was screaming.

Michael ran over to where the tree was on fire. It was a small pear tree, Michael thought that maybe the tree would burn its self out. He was very wrong. The crisp dry leaves that lay on the grass began to burn as the fire spread. Soon a small red berry bush was ablaze, then the hawthorn bush behind that. Michael battled furiously with the fire but no matter how hard he tried his magic was no match for the greedy flames. The orange flames licked and danced beneath a very large elm tree threatening to set it alight.

"Breathe M-Michael! In and out! J-just breathe!" James screamed to his older brother who was beginning to panic.

Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he immediately started to choke on the smoke. He took a step back desperately in search of fresh air. However the wind kept blowing more and more smoke into his face. Michael fell to his hands and knees coughing and choking. His eyes stung and his nose and throat were on fire. He covered his mouth with one hand and raised the other hand in front of his face, palm out. The smoke made it harder to tell where all the spaces connected but when Michael found it he pushed at it with all is strength. The smoke flew away from Michael and fresh air hit him in the face. Still coughing Michael stood up trying to gulp in as much fresh air as possible.

James Ran over to him and took up a stance in front of the fire. He raised both his hands palms out. James bent his knees slightly and took a deep breath. With all his might the little boy pushed at the air creating a tidal wave of oxygen that overwhelmed the fire. The pear trees flames were extinguished quickly. Michael came to stand beside his brother and both of them turned to face what was left of the fire. "On three!" He yelled over the cackling of the fire. "Ready! One; two, three!" The brothers pushed hard at the air and the fire reluctantly went out.

Michael pulled James into a hug. James began to sob into his brothers chest. "I'm-m s-so s-sor-ry" He cried.

"Shh, there, there it's okay now everything is okay."

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The sun dawned on the day of great consequences quicker that Michael realised. He sat on his bed as the maid packed all his belongings into a trunk. He listened to the carriage pulling up outside the manor. The sound of his great aunt's arrival saddened him a great deal. He heard his brother's mournful footsteps on the stairs, coming to tell him it was time to go. Michael didn't say anything. He couldn't look at James either. How could he? After he did something so terrible that resulted in him being taken far away from his beloved little brother. How was Michael going to protect James from the bullies in the village if he was in the arsehole of nowhere?

Together they walked down to the courtyard. Aoibhinn Chara and Henry Backspan looked at their son with pity. Michael knew it wasn't really their fault. Once the extended family heard about what Michael had done they thought it was best to intervene. "Poor Aoibhinn can't cope with two unruly children, it's best to separate the two brothers at an early stage."

Michael didn't say anything to his parents. He kept his head down as he walked sombrely to the carriage and got in. This made Aoibhinn burst into tears. Michael turned his back to his family and he too began to cry. He wanted to say something to them but he couldn't find the words. He chanced a glance out the window to see James clutching little Sorcha's hand. James locked eyes with his older brother. The two looked at each other and in those silent moments Michael said everything he wanted to say to James.

His one year old little sister was tired of standing up and plomped herself down on the ground. She looked up at James, then at her distraught mother then finally her pale blue eyes rested on Michael. He wondered if she would remember him when he came to visit at Christmas. Michael was going to live in Cork now and the thought of it made him sick in his stomach. It was a five day carriage ride to get to the small town where his mother's aunt lived. He wondered if his great aunt would even bother to make that long of a journey for Christmas. His Aunt got in and closed the door of the carriage. With a jolt the two horses started a quick trot, brining the carriage down the drive.

James watched helpless as his brother was driven away. Just before the carriage disappeared from view the little girl at James' feet muttered two of the few words she knew. "Bye-bye," Her chubby little hand bobbed up and down in the air giving her eldest brother her farewell.

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**. . .**

**Okay so don't worry! It is most deffinitly NOT the end of Michael Collins. I have my reasons for seperating the two devilish brothers. Why? well I can't tell you why! That would run the story. Sorry for the mistakes let me know what you all think**

**:D**


	6. A New Name

**Just a really quick one before you read the chapter! I want to say a HUGE thank you to Mrs. Ravel who helped me greatly with how to go about writing this chapter!**

**And another HUGE thank you to all of you who have reviewed! It means a lot to me! :')**

**Okay I'm finished now**

**Continue as you where . . .**

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**1719**

The letter came in a neat envelope; James' name was scribbled above of his address in all too familiar hand writing. It sat quietly on the dining room table waiting for its owner to claim the letter within.

However James was far too angry to even consider opening the letter. He stood with his fists balled and his face pale with anger. His sparkling eyes stared at his mother. "Why w-won't you l-let me?!"

"Because, there is no need for you to go!" She snapped back with just as much anger.

"T-there is! I need to m-make friends, I w-want to have friends!"

"You don't need to have friends you have your family,"

James let the anger boil inside him. "_Family?" _He asked himself "_What family?" _With Michael gone to Cork to live with his aunt, James had no one. His mother was pregnant once again – this time expecting twins – and had started to detach herself from the family ever since her eldest child left. His little sister who was still a toddler was stealing almost all of the short attention span his father had to no longer got a look in. A very small part of him began to think that his parents were beginning to see him more as the devil child than their own son. Then again it was only a small part and it was locked up and dumped in the back of his brain where it couldn't bother him unless he thought about it, but James did think about it, too much for it to be any good for his health.

James couldn't take it anymore, he knew that arguing with his mother would only put her in a fowler mood, so he snatched the letter off the table and stormed out of the kitchen and out of the manor. He walked to his place; it was where he always went when he was angry and upset. It was a peaceful place hidden in the Wicklow Mountains only a twenty minute walk from the manor. There was a small enough lake with rocks that jutted out along the shore there were trees and bushes and lots of space, there was even a small beach along the west bank of the lake. It was his place and nobody knew about it.

James followed the path until it veered left. He kept on walking straight straying of the path and through some bushes, next he crawled through a tunnel he had made in the brambles. When he emerged on the other side he let himself relax.

He sat on top of a large flat rock overlooking the lake. He crossed his legs and opened the letter.

_Dear Little Brother, _

_Yes, I am doing fine here thanks for asking. Nothing incredibly interesting has happened since I wrote to you last, unless you find Uncle Carlos' financial skulduggery interesting. Earlier this week I found out that he's been purposely doping the farmers plough horses so that they work harder and harvest twice as much crops. So he's raised the taxes and is getting two thirds more money than he was last year. In genius you would say but it's very depleting on the farmers who have to work twice as hard but without the dope!_

_Okay enough of the fancy talk, Aunt Minerva has organised a tutor for me. He comes everyday and teaches me English and Maths sometimes when aunt isn't there he'll teach me Irish all the old folklore and poetry. Aunt Minerva wants me to put all my new English writing skills into my letters, so that's why I used long words like "Skulduggery". Actually that word, "Skulduggery," reminds me of you. My tutor said that the word means devilish or cunning. It's normally used to describe an action not a person but I feel like it suits you well little brother._

_I hope all is well at home, I hear that Mam is expecting again. That'll be two more little siblings to add to our clan. I hope you're still telling baby Sorcha what a great brother I am, you should paint me in a heroic light in the stories you tell her. I don't want my little sister to forget me! I know you didn't ask because you don't care but our cousins are all well. Cousin Aoife has chosen her taken name of Ruby Stone. I don't like it; I mean a ruby is a stone? So why would you take both words as your name? It's like calling yourself Stone Stone or something. You can see my logic right? No one else can. _

_Speaking of names, have you chosen your taken name yet? Please don't tell me I'll have to address my next letter to Master Rock Rock. _

_Looking forward to your reply,_

_Le grá,_

_M.C_

_P.S Don't forget to keep up the training!_

James smiled down at the letter. He folded it neatly and put into his pocket and stood up. He stretched a bit before sinking into a comfortable stance.

James breathed in and out and raised his arms. He sent his magic outwards and felt it connect with the water by his feet. He could feel the gentle pull and push of the quiet lake waves. He raised his arms and a strong wall of water rose from the lake. He concentrated on keeping the water wall in place as he focussed on the tiny droplets contained within. He made them colder and colder, slightly bigger as they began to freeze. Soon the air around him was cold. So cold it became almost unbearable.

His hands began to shake and a strong shiver echoed on his spine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, just a little colder. . .

When James opened his eyes there was a large block of ice floating in mid air above the lake. He admired his handy work and allowed himself to be momentarily impressed by his own skills, before he let the ice block drop from the air. James shook his hands furiously and blew on them to warm them back up.

The 'ice wall' was something he had been working on for a while, each time he did it he got faster but he still wasn't able to find a way to keep himself warm as he did it. James continued with some easy drills, so easy in fact that he didn't have to concentrate too hard on what he was doing. His mind began to wonder, he thought about what his mother had said and about Michael's letter. Soon his fight with his mother was long forgotten and all he could think about was his brother's letter. Michael had brought up taken names and it was something James had been thinking about for a while.

Mason Pleasant was a name he'd been thinking about as well as Poseidon Classic but neither really fitted him. They were just desperate attempts to find a name before he got too old and it all got embarrassing.

Finished with his water manipulation drills James moved onto air, all the while thinking about his name. As James twisted and turned the air around him, possible name choices twisted and turned in his head.

_Cliff Day_

_Tom Slender_

_Joshua Clancy_

_Finbar_

_Fergus_

Fergus? Really?

_Mason Pleasant_

_Poseidon_

_Carl_

_Carl Pleasant? No . . . _

_Eddie Devil_

_Patrick Devil_

_Hmmm Devil . . ._

"I could always s-stick with D-evil Child," Said James to the quiet lake. He smiled and laughed at his joke.

_"Devil or Devilish seems to fit, so does Pleasant. I like the sound of Pleasant."_ Carl and Eddie were too ordinary for James; he was an unusual boy so he needed an unusual name, like Poseidon or Finbar or _Skulduggery_.

James reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He found the unusual word and said it out loud, "S-sk- skul-dug-ger-y," James frowned. He licked his lips and tried to say the word again. "Sk-ulldug-gry," James tried once more, this time he concentrated. "S-kul-duggery, Skul-duggery, Skulduggery!" That was when it all clicked into place.

"Skulduggery Pleasant," He whispered to himself and the name became his.

* * *

**Hello!**

**Mrs. Ravel was a great help I was finding it difficult to bring the name Skulduggery into James' life and how it could relate to him but after we talked she gave me the idea to tie 'devilish' in with 'Skulduggery' everyone clap for Mrs. Ravel please! **

***Claps greatfully* **

**I have to admit that I am not happy with this chapter or the one before this either. I don't think this chapter flows very well and my pacing is off, if you have ANY tips at all pretty please let me know! You can PM me or leave a review. **

**Sorry for the late update, the EXTREMELY late update and of course all my mistakes. **

**I will try and update more often there's just a lot going on in my life at the moment and I know it's pathetic to make excuses but my attention and time has been screwed all over the place so please bare with me. Thanks for reading hope you're not too disappointed.**


	7. Two Worlds

***Places story there quietly and runs away in fear of being yelled at for being so late***

* * *

**1720**

_The cold and the damp were the first things she noticed when she woke up. She didn't know why this surprised her, cold and damp were regular occurrences when one lives in a cave. _

He woke up to the sounds of the babies crying. He groaned and rolled onto his side. He had come accustomed to the twins, a boy and a girl, crying in the middle of the night. He lay there in the darkness knowing that he wouldn't fall back to sleep.

_She sat up in the darkness and let her eyes adjust to the blackness. She rummaged around until she found her robes. She put it on over her night clothes and stood up. After a stretch she quietly left the empty dorm. She didn't pass any of the Sofi. The Sofi, meaning the wise ones, was the name given to a polydinami when they had reached the state of all knowing._

He stood up and got dressed. He crept past the twin's room and saw the nurse caring for them through the door that lay agape. He reached the front door and slipped on his boots. Not long after he reached the lake. It was much quieter at night, so much more peaceful.

_Polydinami meant many powers, to her it meant imprisoned in a cave and forced to study. It was a rare adept discipline only practiced deep in the Wicklow Mountains, practically unknown to most of the world. People who did hear about the adepts thought that they were nothing but legends. She didn't blame them the polydinami didn't stray far from their home in the mountains for fear that people would hunt them for their power and knowledge._

He didn't really want to practice magic so he sprawled out on the flag stones and just listened to the wind in the trees. The idea of gazing at the stars - no matter how nice or romantic it was - was incredibly boring.

_She reached the sensitive's ward and woke him up. He mumbled and groaned about her choosing such an ungodly hour to train. She ignored him and led the way to the training hall. Deeper and deeper into the caves they went, colder and colder it got._

"T-this, th-that, t-these and t-th-those, th-is is the w-way the T H goes." He said out loud to the lake trying to quench his boredom. It was one of the phrases his older brother had sent to him to help with his speech. They were definitely helping, now he only had problems with the letters 'T' and 'W'. He took a deep breath and started again.

_The fire lit torches were the only source of light this deep in the mountain they flickered in the dark casting long shadows. She instructed the dark haired sensitive to use his magic to read her thoughts. He sat crossed legged on the stone floor and she sat opposite him. Before he began she told him to go slowly the first time. Concentrating she watched him closely. She could feel her own magic begin to bubble inside her as the sensitive started. He closed his eyes but she kept hers open. He took a deep breath and became very still. She used her magic to enhance her eyesight so that she could see his magic. It was beautiful and colourful as it swirled outward from his head. Seeing magic and the way it moved was the most important use the Polydinami had for their own magic. It allowed them to see exactly what their subject was doing._

_The sensitive's magic swirled towards her quickly far too quickly for her to register. So she used her own magic to make time slow down, another important use. With time moving slowly she could see where his magic connected to hers in tangled its self with hers. He used her magic as a channel to get to her brain. She let his magic into her head and closed her eyes so she could watch his magic work on her thoughts inside her brain._

_Her mind was laid out in front of him as his magic explored her thoughts. Tendrils of his colourful magic wrapped around one of her thoughts and then it sent a magical pulse. The pulse quickly fired out of her brain down the tendril. She slowed time even more so that she could follow the pulse. It moved along the tendril back into his brain._

_"So that's how you do it," she said to herself._

However he became bored very quickly and magic was the only form of real entertainment he had. He threw the fireball up and down, up and down, up and down.

_She told the sensitive to stop. He did as he was told; the subject always did what they were told. She closed her eyes and played what she had just seen over and over in her head, until she knew how it was done off by heart. "My magic connects to his magic, his magic connects to his brain, my magic connects to his thoughts, his thoughts connected to my magic and my magic connected to my brain" That is all magic is really, seeing the connections. _

Throwing just one fireball became tedious and boring so he added another to the mix and began to juggle them. He juggled them faster and faster until they blurred into red streaks in the night sky.

_She took a deep breath and imagined what it must feel like to read other people's minds. What his magic would feel like. What her magic would feel like in his mind. She was ready she knew she was she was ready to try at least . . ._

_"SOLITARE!" _

_The harsh roar split her concentration, causing her to jump._

The flames burnt brightly against the night sky prancing like a playful kitten trying to catch the stars. There was the sound of little hands clapping behind him. He spun around unaware that he had had an audience. "Yay! Well done S'duggery! Well done! Again again!" His little sister yelled happily.

_"HOW DARE YOU! Who do you think you are?! You, under no circumstances are allowed to take a subject! How dare you! How could you even think that you have the capability to, to even -"_

_The slap came in hard across her face giving her no time to react, followed by a sharp under cut to her chin. Her teeth clashed together catching her tongue in the process. The sensitive jumped and ran to the far wall frightened at the sudden outburst._

_Her attacker grabbed her by the scruff and held up off the ground. It wasn't hard for a fully grown man to lift a seven year old girl. He brought her so close to his face she could feel the unruly hairs of his beard scratching at her. She had broken the rules enough times to know what happens next._

"Sorcha!" Skulduggery scolded. "W-what in eart-hs name are you doing here?"

"I'm watching you silly!" The little girl replied with a giggle. Skulduggery smiled down at her. Her dark curls fell around her round face, framing her smile and sparkling eyes perfectly. He crouched down and his little sister ran to him, throwing her arms around her big brother. Her hugged her close taking in her sweet smell.

_It didn't take him long to batter her unconscious. When she woke she found herself back in her bed. She sat up quickly and was rewarded with a sharp pain in her head. Her lip was swollen and her limbs were stiff. It wasn't a bad beating, she'd had worse before. Slowly she stood up. One knee buckled, unable to support the full weight of her small body. Solitaire limped to the door to try and open it. It wouldn't budge on closer inspection she noticed a magical sheen covering the door locking it from the outside. _

_"Great," She mumbled. She hadn't expected isolation but then again she had taken it a step too far. Taking a subject to study after hours was a strict rule, but taking a subject who wasn't studied until a polydinami had reached the age of sixteen or seventeen. _

"How do you do that?" She whispered into his neck. Skulduggery just smiled and whispered:

"Magic"

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**I'm not going to force feed you excuses and expect you to swallow them, so I'm just asking you to understand that this story is very long and i have spent a while planning it. It's all sorted and full of excitement, i even plan a trip to america! and unexpected run ins with the dead men and other characters from the books. So planning was fun.. but writting small boring chapters like this is not. I have been very busy with fourth year and shizz even though i thought this would be the year i could be updating more. I am very sorry please forgive me.**

**Now this chapter is only and intro to Skul's new friend. I had alot of explaining to do because i decided to involve an adept magic i invented. I regret it now. But basically The Polydinami are adepts who can use their magic to learn other adept magic and then sort of mimic it back when they need to. However they live in caves and are scared to leave the caves, in the wicklow mountain, which is offaly close to where Skulduggery lives... Anyways, if you have any questions DM me **

**They havent meet yet because that would have made the chapter too long they will meet soon! Let me know what you think your feed back is invaluable **

**:)**


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